


It's a Draw

by suberbantokyodrift



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suberbantokyodrift/pseuds/suberbantokyodrift
Summary: Izumi finds herself crashing a party...Only to crash an arm wrestling match no man can win against Olivier.





	It's a Draw

            It was a Friday night, but more importantly a night she could finally fucking rest after finals. Izumi planned to remain in her room, nestled with a stray cat that her roommates found rummaging in their garbage mid-March. The cat was a scruffy one with a scar that ran through his right eye that impaired his vision. Didn’t mean it impaired his ferocious nature though. While her roommates were scratched to hell whenever they attempted to pet the cat, Izumi remained unscathed. Probably because the cat held a spiritual rage connection with her. She entered her room, her gaze meeting the cat’s golden one. He was sprawled on her bed which she hadn’t bothered to make because Chemistry took over her life that week. Some said taking eighteen credits, the majority being science centered, was crazy, but she phrased herself being driven. She padded across the carpeted floor after dropping her backpack upon entering her room. Her nails scratched the top of the cat’s head and a purr rumbled from his throat as his head pushed into her palm.

            “Whoever created 8 PM finals deserved to dig their own grave,” she grumbled to her cat, crawling into her bed to join him. Her exhaustion pulled her down into her bed and she didn’t bother to change out of her study sweats or to take down her hair. Izumi had used the full three hours given to take the exam, triple checking her formulas and perfecting her answers. So, there was no way in hell she was going to exert her mind any further. Her eyes closed and…

            _THUMP. THUMP. THUMP._

            Her room shook with the beat of music blasting through her walls. Izumi’s eyes snapped open, her lips twisting into a snarl as rage drummed her heart.

             “For the love of fuck!” Izumi ripped off her bed, scaring her cat. He jumped off the moment she did, darting out the door. She rolled up her sleeves and threw her sandals on. Yes, she knew this was college and that it was a Friday. And yes, she knew finals were over and done with but for the love of Christ that didn’t mean she’d tolerate music that was loud enough to knock picture frames off walls. Her footfalls were heavy as she exited down the stairs and out the door, her hands in white-knuckled fists. Izumi gritted her teeth once she left the house. She was told once that she should keep her temper under control and she had for the most part until nights like these came along.

            It wasn’t hard to find the house responsible. It was the frat right next door, after all, music blaring and people flooding to its doors. Just then a group hurried past her, she recognized one of them from the martial arts course she had last semester—a woman with blond bangs swept to the side with her hair held in by a clip at the back of her head. Izumi furrowed her brows, Riza didn’t seem like the partying type. Then again, the group she was with seemed like the kinds of people that’d black out and have one person coming home with a lampshade over their head.

            Izumi walked ahead of the group and then shoved someone out of the way before they got their chance to enter the place. She didn’t have the time to deal with anyone in her way. The air smelled of cheap beer when she entered. Izumi looked around, trying to search who looked responsible for the party. She spotted a large muscular man, shirtless and covered in glitter flexing for a picture. A low growl built at the back of her throat. Armstrong. The annoying pissbaby from Bio-Chem. She once saw him crying over a worm they had to dissect for a lab and that thought only made her scowl deepen.

            “Hey!” Izumi shouted as she took rage-filled steps towards him, pushing people out of her way. She knew he was a part of this frat, she’d seen him throw out the trash a few times over the course of the semester. Armstrong stopped flexing for a moment, his brows raised and his blue eyes wide. It wasn’t a secret that Izumi was pissed. With her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hands in fists, along with her teeth bared, she was a dead ringer for the definition of pissed off.

            “People are trying to sleep!” Izumi raised a fist, ready to use it.

Until he started to bawl his eyes out, blubbering how sorry he was. Alright, so he was drunk. She let out an aggravated sigh, lowering her fist. He wasn’t worth it. Izumi turned away, but not ready to leave. Her stay was already giving her a small migraine and she wasn’t going to let the battle for silence be lost that easily.

            She walked through a throng of people holding red plastic cups while they attempted to dance. Izumi felt a hand on her shoulder. Her own hand shot like a bullet and gripped the wrist of whoever touched her and twisted it as her body whipped around.

            “Jesus!” a man wheezed. “All I was tryin’ to do was get your attention.”

            Izumi narrowed her eyes, throwing his wrist out of her grip. He was a little over her height, held a strong jaw line, had messy dirty blond hair, and a cigarette tucked behind one ear. He flicked out his wrist while he pointed at her chest with his can of beer. “Ya know, I’m just going to say this right here and now: that was hot.”

            Izumi, not impressed, didn’t say anything in return.

            “I’m Jean by the way.”

            She rolled her eyes and walked away, her migraine growing worse. Izumi’s teeth ground together while she ventured deeper into the house, trying to find the stereo system. The music grew louder and her headache grew stronger. She was getting closer, but then she found herself in a crowd circled around a man and a woman sitting in chairs, leaning over a table with their hands held together. She recognized the man from one of her past classes, but she didn’t recognize the woman across from him. She was beautiful; striking. Izumi could only assume the man across the table tried to flirt with her.

            “So, I just want to get this right for everyone to hear,” the man said over the music, his words slightly slurred. “You said that if I beat you at this little game of arm wrestling, that I’d get a kiss.”

            “That’s right,” the woman answered, a small sardonic grin twitching the corner of her lips. As Izumi stayed with the crowd, she found a faint familiarity to Armstrong in the woman’s features. 

            The man laughed, “Well can we get a countdown then?”

            The group of people around her started to count down from three and as soon as one left everyone’s mouths, the man’s hand was already pinned to the table. Izumi blinked a few times, forgetting about her migraine for a brief moment as she stood there in awe.

            “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” said the woman coolly. The man, stunned, stuttered over himself, but the woman spoke over him, pulling her hand away, “Don’t try to make up excuses, you had your chance.”

            Another man came forward and shoved the other out of his seat.

            Now, this was getting interesting.

            The woman flicked her long bangs from her eyes as she raised her hand up again, ready to take down another opponent. The new man settled into his chair and raised his hand, flexing his fingers.

            “I take it you want your chance too?” she asked.

            Their hands locked together and the group was at it again. His arm shook while their grip lasted several moments, but soon he was met with the same fate as the other man. The crowd erupted in hoots and hollers as another failed the challenge. Another man stepped forward, but Izumi shoved him aside and slipped into the empty seat.

            The woman cocked a blond brow as Izumi placed her elbow on the table with her hand raised. A small smile slipped from Izumi when the woman’s hand brushed into hers. Their hands gripped each other as the countdown began.

            “Three…Two…One—”

            Izumi’s hand was not pinned to the table nor was the woman’s. Izumi’s bicep flexed and twitched while she kept her hand gripped to the other’s, her knuckles white. Izumi’s hand started to be pushed down, but she was quick to haul the woman’s hand back up. The woman’s jaw clenched, her eyes locked with Izumi’s as their hands shook in one fist. Izumi gripped the woman’s hand harder, pulling it down to the left. It hardly was pulled over an inch, but both women’s eyes remained on each other’s. Izumi breathed heavily through her nose as her grip remained as a grin slid across her lips.

            “Who are you?” the woman asked between steady breaths.

 

 

 

 

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A/N: Wow...Uh...Yeah, that makes my first ever finished fanfic.

 

 

 

Oh, I almost forgot to tell ya guys something...Ed's the cat. 

 

 

 

 


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